


The Familiar Stranger

by WillSherJohnKhan



Category: Little Favour (2013), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: And Lots of It, Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 22:32:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7288705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillSherJohnKhan/pseuds/WillSherJohnKhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly discovers a stranger waiting for her in the morgue.</p><p>Disclaimer:<br/>I don’t own any of these characters. I just like to play with them every now and then.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Familiar Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 50th story. :-) So, I thought I'd try something... different.

***

ABANDONED WAREHOUSE – JUST OUTSIDE LONDON

The two men stood facing each other.

It was a standoff.

But one that was about to come to an end.

The man who now called himself Wallace, showed little emotion as he observed the world’s only Consulting Detective.

“You’ve acquired a number of enemies, Sherlock. Unfortunately for you, I owe one of them a little favour.” Casually he reached into his jacket pocket and removed a semi-automatic pistol. “Nothing personal,” he stated coolly.

Sherlock remained silent, refusing to beg for his life. But as Wallace raised his weapon, he realised there was something important he needed to arrange first. “Wait!” he said, raising his hands. “I have a request.”

“What?” the response was clipped and impatient.

Sherlock took a deep breath, and prayed that she would understand. “I need you to do something for me…”

***

BART’S MORGUE – ONE HOUR LATER

Wallace studied Molly Hooper carefully as she entered the morgue. Petite, with her hair kept in a simple, practical ponytail. The files she carried indicated the Pathologist was in for a busy night’s work. 

From what he’d been told about her, she was quick, efficient, professional and observant.

It took her less than thirty seconds to realise she wasn’t alone

Initially startled, Molly soon felt uneasy about the man leaning casually against the morgue draws. The stranger bore a strong resemblance to Sherlock, both possessing the same striking cheekbone structure and the unusual eye colour. So close in appearance that they could be twins.

However, there were differences. The man standing before her wasn’t into high-end fashion, dressed as he was in a black leather jacket, black jeans and boots. His unruly curls had been tamed, if only temporarily with the aid of the rain currently pouring outside. His eyes flashed like flint as they continually cased the room, while his plush, full lips remained in a firm, hard line. Physically he was more muscular, though his body was tense and alert, reflexes constantly on a hair trigger, honed to deal with any potential danger.

Wallace smiled internally, nodding his head with approval. Yes, she was good, very, very good. She read him well. As he could read her, watching her closely as she came to her ultimate conclusions about him.

A man who had seen action, and not all of it brought on by war. But it was while he’d been in the military that he’d been taught his very particular skill set.

There were many names for what he did. The one that came to Molly, as accurate as any.

Hit man.

“What do you want?” Molly asked unable to disguise the tremble in her voice.

“You’re not my target, Molly Hooper,” he assured her, in a voice that sounded so familiar, and yet was not. “I’m here to make a delivery.” He indicated the draw he was leaning against, before moving aside and heading towards the door where he paused, turning back so as to look her in the eye. “He said you were the best. The only one he trusted. And the only one he wanted to examine his body.”

And then he was gone.

*

The body was laid out on the table. 

All the instruments lined up ready.

She could delay the inevitable no longer. Taking a deep breath she pressed record.

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Caucasian male. Age, thirty-eight. Height, six-foot three inches…”

***

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been in my head for quite some time, and I've attempted to write it a number of times. On each occasion I couldn't end it as I'd originally intended, until now...
> 
> This is just a one-off to see if I could actually make myself do it.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are, as always most welcome. :-)


End file.
